Matilda
by ImDreamingTheDream
Summary: Because Angel is a very special little girl.


**Matilda**

A Maximum Ride oneshot  
by ImDreamingTheDream

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 **Character Tags:** Angel, Iggy, Gazzy, Jeb  
 **Genre:** Angst, Family, Hurt/Comfort  
 **Setting:** Before TAE, during the first two books

* * *

Colorado

Angel is a very special little girl. A miracle, is what Jeb says. Her brothers and sisters say so too, but Angel knows this already and doesn't need anyone to tell and remind her. Not just because of the wings – the rest of the Flock have them too, don't they? – but because of her mind, of course. She's just a little girl but the amount of stuff in her mind rivals that of grown-up geniuses like Stephen Hawking. And then there's her psychic abilities.

Angel can read people's thoughts. She has to concentrate hard to do this but sometimes she picks up on things without meaning to, and she's aware of other people's minds and feelings.

She's a genius to boot, though this may have something to do with the psychic powers. She can do big numbers in her head and read grown-up books without effort. Sometimes Jeb takes her aside and gives her big numbers to multiply, or asks her to read complicated texts out loud. She doesn't like it when Jeb does this because it gives her a headache, especially when she hits the thousands and even she has to think very hard. It is complicated in Angel's head already, memories and thoughts and feelings swirling around in there, and sometimes there's so much of it in her head she can't sleep. But after Jeb's sessions he makes her hot chocolate and kisses her forehead and calls her his little miracle and Angel's heart goes out to him, especially since she owes him her everything.

When Jeb disappears, Angel is four whole years old. Her mind has gotten much more brilliant. She thrills in showing off, in reading Max's mind and telling her what she was thinking, or announcing to the whole Flock what Iggy intends to make for lunch before he gets the chance.

"You're our little genius, Angel-baby," Iggy says to her one day as she watches him make salad.

"I know," Angel says proudly. "I'm like Matilda, aren't I, Iggy?" That's one of the first books Jeb read to them after he rescued them, though of course Angel can read it all by herself now.

Iggy kisses the top of her head. "You bet you are."

California

Angel is very afraid and alone in her cage in the School. It's too small for her, so she's all cramped up inside with her skinny limbs drawn very close. She wonders about Max and the others, if they got away and if so, when they're going to come save her. If not, either they're too far away for her to sense their minds, or –

Well, she doesn't want to think about that.

When the Whitecoats come for her, taking blood samples and skin and saliva and DNA samples, when they make her run and fly; when they burn and whip her; and touch her in place she doesn't like, Angel shuts herself up inside of herself and wills it all to stop.

"This little specimen is a miracle," one of them murmurs as he sticks a needle into her arm, and the word sends a chill down her spine.

New York

It's been a few days, but the relief of being rescued is fresh and exhilarating. The bruises don't hurt her too bad, though, only if you press very hard, and that's good.

Angel doesn't know what to make of New York. She knows it is a very exciting, important city. But it's big, and there are so many people, more people in one place than Angel has ever seen in her whole life combined. So many minds.

She's a big girl now at six, and her powers are much stronger, but she's also gotten better at controlling them. Before, there were always many minds chattering away in her head, competing for her attention, and that was exhausting. Now Angel knows how to home in on just her own thoughts, to focus on them alone, but even then other thoughts are pressing in on the background, on the edges of her own mind.

She is glad, then, that they're in this sort of secluded area of Central Park. They're sitting on some big rocks, curved like a turtle shell. The Flock has split off in pairs: Nudge and Iggy have gone in search of food; Angel and Gazzy are seated on their rumps in the dirt, digging for worms with sticks; Max and Fang watch from a distance on the rocks, looking after Celeste, Angel's new beloved teddy bear.

Gazzy is digging furiously – he is sullen and sulky. Angel doesn't need to read his mind to know that. He is miserable. His face says as much. She could read his mind to learn what's upsetting him, but she doesn't really want to. Max has given her quite a few talking-tos about just reading people's minds like that, so instead Angel asks. "Gazzy, what's wrong?"

Her biological brother stabs at the dirt. "Why do _you_ have the best powers?"

Angel is surprised. "What?"

"I mean, you have the best ones. You and me are kinda the only ones who can do anything really, but yours are way better than mine and they always have been and it's not fair."

Angel thinks back to this morning, how she learned she could control minds too – that's how she got Celeste. She thinks back to the days when Jeb used to tell her she was a miracle, like Matilda, and the words of the Whitecoats: _Subject Eleven is the most valuable one, of course_. And she wonders why she's the specialest of them all.

She tries to reason with her brother. "You can mimic voices."

He stabs at the dirt again. "That's stupid."

A couple passes by them. They glance over at them, two children aged six and eight, sat on their haunches in the dirt, and Angel feels their pity roll off them in waves, thick and muggy. They look, look away, and keep walking.

It never struck Angel that they must look very destitute actually, she and Gazzy. They're both small and so skinny their bones protrude sharply from their little bodies – collarbones, hips, spine, ribs – Angel's especially. Their faces are covered in dirt. Gazzy's clothes are oversized and torn, and Angel doesn't even have that. They took her clothes away at the School, so all she's wearing is the baggy white pillowcase-like thing she had to wear there and Max's big Windbreaker. She has to push the sleeves back very, very far for her little hands to stick out and its hem almost reaches her knees; and her feet are bare. Angel's blue eyes watch the couple until they're out of sight before turning back her attention to Gazzy.

"I don't know why I'm so special," she admits quietly. She can't deny being special, can't deny being a miracle. But she can confess to not knowing why, not wanting any of it. "It's the Whitecoats, not me."

Gazzy looks at her grimly. Any feelings of envy wafting off of him change. "I know," he whispers. "It's not your fault, Ang'." He leans over and kisses her forehead, a quick, tender, big-brotherly gesture of affection.

Then the children resume digging, happy to leave such matters undiscussed.

It's Angel who finds what they've been hunting for first. She takes her worm on her stick and holds it out in triumph. "I found a worm!" she crows victoriously, and runs to show Max with her brother at her heels. "Look, Max!"

"Oh, that's nice, a _worm_ ," says Max, not at all sincerely. "Would you look at that. Oh, look, Nudge and Igs are back. Why don't you go show _them_?"

Gazzy snatches Angel's stick with the worm dangling from it before Angel can get up. He's faster than her, because he's a boy and has much longer legs, and he runs to meet Nudge. "Nudge, Nudge, look what we found!" he crows, thrusting the worm into Nudge's face, never mind the fact that she's the one with the two grocery bags, probably in some noble attempt to show off how strong she is.

Nudge shrieks and runs; Gazzy gives chase. Angel claps her hand, delighted by the spectacle, before running to meet Iggy. He ruffles her hair. "I hear you found a worm."

"Yes," Angel says proudly. "I'm the one who dug it up."

"You'll have to show me where you dug them up," says Iggy. He takes her hand and they begin to walk together slowly back to the rocks. They can both still hear Nudge shrieking and Gazzy laughing. "They'll make a nice addition to the food we got."

"Iggy!" cries Angel horrified. "Oh, Iggy, no!"

He stops and cocks his head to think. "Hmm, you're right, Ang'," he says, nodding. "We don't want to eat worms. Worms are gross." Angel agrees by nodding her head vigorously, though Iggy can't tell. "Instead…" Iggy lowers his voice, and Angel holds her breath in anticipation, not wanting to read his mind to learn what he has in store for a second. She doesn't want to spoil the surprise. "Instead… maybe we'll all just have to… _eat a_ juicy- _sweet little girl instead!_ "

He scoops her up in his arms, tickling her, and a delighted Angel shrieks her pleasure. "No! No Iggy no! Don't eat me, don't eat me!" Iggy spins her around, tickling her under her chin and on her stomach, which he knows well are her most ticklish spots. He tosses her high in the air and catches her, and Angel laughs out loud, because she knows that even though he can't see her, he'll never let her fall.

Virginia

"Angel, you're very good at math, aren't you?" says the teacher.

Angel sat on the edge of the plastic chair with her hands in her lap and her back straight. She looked up at her teacher, whose eyes were very wide and whose face was tense. She didn't understand why she had to be here, at recess, just to be asked some questions. The emotions and thoughts she got off her teacher were confused and muddled and she couldn't make much sense of them. But Angel wasn't in trouble, was she? She pressed her lips together, and finally just nodded.

"You know your multiplication tables, don't you, Angel? The other children won't learn them until third grade."

Angel nodded. She'd learned them a long, long time ago. She squirmed in her seat, wishing she could go out and play with the other children. But then her teacher asked the next question, and her heart began to beat very quickly. "Now, Angel, I'm going to ask you a big question, and … it's okay if you don't get this one, it's a very tough one … but what is … 11 times 13?"

"143," said Angel at once, not by reading her teacher's mind but because she already knew. She didn't know it off by heart, but she calculated it in her own head easy enough. She _could_ , of course, have read the teacher's mind but that wasn't what was expected of her now, and besides, it was more effort to find the answer in all her teacher's thoughts than to just calculate the problem. But she didn't like this, not at all. This reminded her of all those sessions in Colorado with Jeb, the traitor.

Her teacher pressed her lips together and took Angel's small hands in hers. "O-kay … and how about, now don't worry if you don't get it, 369 times 125?"

"46 125," Angel answered after thinking it over about ten seconds.

Her teacher dropped her hands and drew in a deep breath. "And you can read big books too, can't you, Angel? I've seen you read."

Angel shut her eyes. She didn't want her teacher to make her read big books. More memories came to her of Jeb testing the limits of her powers, of her brilliance, of her cleverness, of her miraculous-ness. Pushing, learning, writing it down after, probably recording it too. She nodded. "Yes … " Angel said in a very small voice. "Miss, can I go now?"

The teacher nodded. "Yes. Yes of course, Angel. You go out and play, now." When Angel opened her eyes her teacher was trying for a smile. It was a shaky and pathetic attempt. She climbed off the chair and started to exit the classroom, but on her way out she turned around for one last look.

It was much later, as Angel was walking home from school with the rest of the Flock, that it came to her, the primary feelings amongst the big jumble of feelings in her teacher's head, amongst all the worries about taxes and whether the principal would find out she'd been drinking and sack her and thoughts whether or not her husband would maybe maybe maybe come back for her tonight. Amongst all that, Angel identified the feelings reserved for her: _fear_.

People had felt a lot of things towards her, about her powers, but Angel never imagined anyone might be afraid.


End file.
